


Stuck on the Edge

by Destiel_5eva



Series: On Edge 'verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean, Castiel is a Little Shit, Dean gets over it, Episode: s04e17 It's a Terrible Life, Facials, M/M, Office Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Castiel, more like a fucking prick but whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 08:57:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3686166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destiel_5eva/pseuds/Destiel_5eva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 2 in the On Edge 'verse.</p>
<p>“This is your floor, Mr Smith?” Castiel asks, nonchalantly. Dean shoots him an incredulous look, before swinging his gaze back to where the doors are open, Castiel’s foot holding them so. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Dean storms out, pulling his laptop back around to conceal his crotch. Before the elevator doors slide shut he hears the sound of Castiel’s rumbling laughter. Fucking smug prick, Dean thinks, hurrying towards the exit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stuck on the Edge

He walked into the giant building with butterflies in his stomach. Working at Sandover is a _big_ deal. He can’t screw this up. He must have looked lost because a secretary runs out to greet him and before he knows it, he’s being whisked away on a tour of the building. He’s introduced to swarms of people, from the janitors to the secretaries to the tech support. Names and faces whizz by in a blurr of ‘hello, how are you?’ s.  They ride the elevator up floor-by-floor, meeting executives and representatives galore.

Dean’s lost in his thoughts trying to remember even half the names of the people he’s just met. He doesn’t notice the people crowding into the elevator with the secretary—whose name is Cassie—and he. “Good morning, Mr Novak!” Cassie greets cheerily. _Novak_ , Dean closes his eyes briefly.

“Cassie, I see you have been tasked with showing our newest employee around the office,” Mr Novak—Castiel, says. Dean looks up, right into that bright blue gaze. “How are you, Mr Smith?” he directs the question to Dean. Dean’s slightly taken aback. Castiel is acting completely… normal. It’s as if the chance meeting in Dirty Angel’s never happened. Dean’s actually relieved; it will be easier if they both forget about that unfortunate encounter. 

“Yeah, good. I think overwhelmed would be a good adjective to describe how I’m feeling right now,” Dean tries to laugh, a squeaky wheeze the only noise coming from his throat. Castiel smiles, but not with his lips. His face is passive except for the twinkle in his eyes, betraying his amusement.

“Ah yes, it will take quite a bit of getting used to,” Castiel concedes, with a good-natured pat to Dean’s back, his hand lightly trailing down Dean’s spine. Dean ignores the zing he gets at Castiel’s touch. He has to stomp down his stupid _feelings_ for the other man. He has to be professional! Like Castiel. The elevator coming to a standstill halts their conversation. Cassie ushers Dean out, while Castiel lags behind. “See you later, Mr Smith,” his deep voice follows Dean down the hall.

“And this is your office,” the perky secretary gestures to a closed door. Her heels clack on the marble floor as she ushers Dean towards the room.

“Ok. Thanks,” Dean hitches his laptop bag higher on his shoulder.

“No problem… Do you need any help settling in?” she smiles, her eyelids fluttering. _Oh god_. Dean swallows, shaking his head.

“NO, I mean… no it’s fine thank you,” Dean pretends not to see her crestfallen look as he hurries into the office. As far as first days go, this hasn’t been too bad. Hopefully the rest of the day goes as smoothly.

***

The rest of the _week_ goes swimmingly. Dean interacts with a variety of other people; he even has a longwinded discussion about whether Star Trek is better than Star Wars with a techie named Charlie. Dean is starting to think that Sandover is going to be a good experience for him.

Of course, it would be fate that as soon as Dean comes to this conclusion that he gets the phone call. He’s reading through a bunch of sales analyses, making notes on how he can improve the company’s performance. In the two and a half weeks he’s been at Sandover, not once has his desk phone rung. The noise actually jolts Dean out of his thoughts.

“Hello. Dean Smith,” he answers.

“Mr Smith, working hard I assume?” Castiel’s voice holds that dry amusement Dean has come to associate with him.

“Yes, of course, Sir,” he replies, placing down the printouts.

“I’d like to speak to you in my office.”

“Now?” Dean sits up a little straighter in his chair.

“Yes. Now.” Castiel hangs up before Dean can get another word in. He’s left listening to the dial tone. Placing the phone back on the hook he gulps. Why would Castiel want to see him? He hasn’t done anything wrong… that he knows of. Maybe he’s just checking in on him? _Wishful thinking, idiot,_ he grumbles to himself, stalking from his office and down the hall to the elevator.

He nods politely to the gargantuan man standing inside. He remembers him from the sea of cubicles down at Tech Support. The man gives him a quizzical look and Dean tries not to let his confusion show on his face. He was only being polite. Pulling out his phone he checks his emails.

“Do I know you?” the man asks.

“I don’t think so.” The elevator dings, arriving at Dean’s floor. He gives Gigantor a look up and down taking in the yellow shirt and chinos. He hurries out, leaving the man staring after him. _That was weird._

The door to Mr Novak’s office is closed and Dean has to take a moment to psych himself up to knock. As soon as he does it’s like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. He still doesn’t know why he’s so nervous about being alone with the other man. It’s not like he’s going to bend Dean over the desk and…

“Come in.” Dean opens the door, glancing around as he does so, nobody even looks up. Castiel Novak is sitting behind a giant mahogany desk. A desktop computer sits to the side while paperwork coats the entirety of the flat surface. “Dean please take a seat, I’ll be with you in a moment.” He gestures to the chairs before the desk. Dean nods, coming to sit down in the same chair he sat in at the interview. Castiel ignores him for the better part of five minutes. It has Dean on edge his hands clenching in his lap, leg jiggling slightly.

“So, Dean what are your thoughts of Sandover so far?” Castiel steeples his fingers atop what looks to be some reports.

“It’s great. The staff are very welcoming and coming to work everyday doesn’t make me want to kill myself so that’s a bonus,” Dean smirks.

“That’s good to hear,” Castiel murmurs, standing. He rounds the desk, coming to lean against the furniture right in front of Dean. He gulps nervously. “I like to get to know each of my employees. I want everyone here at Sandover to enjoy coming into work each day and not ‘want to kill themselves’ as you put it.”

“Uh huh,” Dean flushes hearing his words being thrown back at him. He’s still not sure where Castiel’s going with this.

“The work load not swamping you?” Castiel leans forward, placing a hand on Dean’s arm. It’s crazy that simple _meaningless_ touches have Dean getting this worked up. He needs to calm the hell down!

“No. No it’s early days yet,” Dean’s smile falters a little watching Castiel’s expression; the sinful smile twisting the corners of his mouth. He feels like a mouse caught within the realms of a house cat. Feeling like it’s only being a matter of time before he’s going to be gobbled up.

“Excellent. Then you won’t mind calling up these people from tech support…” Castiel pulls a manila envelope thicker than a phonebook off his desk and plonks it onto Dean’s lap. “And get them to redo their 445-T’s. There’s recently been a switch and all of us are still trying to get our heads around it.” Castiel smiles sweetly. Dean holds onto the envelope, disbelief written all over his face. This is going to take him all day to get through these! He looks up at Castiel, trying to figure out if this is a joke. It has to be. “That’s all. Please close the door on your way out.” Castiel dismisses him, straightening up and pacing over to the floor to ceiling windows stretching the whole of the left side of the office. Dean stands, walking on numb legs towards the door, the envelope clutched tightly in his hands. He can’t believe it.

***

After the last person leaves his office Dean feels an almost overwhelming sense of achievement. He did it. Every single form, done and refiled. There’s five minutes left of the work day and as much as Dean wants to go home and relax, he wants to see Novak’s stupid face when Dean shows up to tell him all the refiling is done. With a spring in his step, he heads back up to Mr Novak’s office. He’ll show the bastard. Dean Smith does not step down to a challenge.

Castiel is still working as if the day as only just begun. Dean waits patiently, watching the sunset behind the city lighting up the buildings in a golden glow, while Castiel finishes up with a phone call. “Yes?” he glances up eyes hard and voice tight. Dean gets the feeling that maybe he should have waited until tomorrow.

“Um maybe I should come back tomorrow…?” Dean stands, ready to show himself out.

“Dean no, what did you want to see me about?” Castiel rubs at his eyes, his voice losing the hardened edge.

“Those 445-T’s have been refiled,” Dean states. Castiel’s hands cease in their circular movements.

“Wait… all of them?” he asks, disbelief colouring his words. Dean nods. “Shit,” Castiel says, completely deadpan. Dean snorts, trying to hide his amusement. “You know, I didn’t actually expect you to do it,” Castiel confesses. Dean’s mouth drops open. _Are you fucking serious?_ “Quite serious,” Castiel crosses his arms over his chest a small smile playing on his lips. _Fuck did I say that out loud? Shit._

“You bastard,” Dean shoots up from his chair.

“Think on the bright side, I now know that you are a conscientious worker who well benefit the company greatly,” Castiel reasons. Dean is still reeling. It took him _hours_ to individually call up the staff members on the list to get him or her to refile their 445-T. Slowly, Dean collapses back into the chair, his lips parted. Castiel watches Dean’s mouth, his tongue darting out to dampen his lips. Dean looks away. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Uh huh. I’m going to go home now and have a drink. It’s been a _long_ day,” he gives Castiel a tight smile, stalking from the office, barely having the will to close the door behind him instead of slamming it like he’d prefer.

***

Over the next week, Dean finally settles back into the corporate life. He has meetings every other day and work coming out of his ears. Surprisingly, he likes it, constantly being busy. It’s what he’s meant to do. ‘Idle hands are the devil’s workshop’ and all that.

Dean doesn’t hold a grudge against Castiel. After all, someone had to get all those forms refiled and like Castiel said, Dean’s now proven himself to be reliable and an asset to the company. Dean doesn’t speak to the boss, scrap that, he doesn’t even _see_ the boss until a week later. And even then it’s only a chance meeting in the elevator at the end of a particularly tiring day.

Dean is leaning heavily against the elevator walls, in the corner farthest from the doors. He’s tired and hungry and he wants a beer. If it weren’t for the whole ‘body cleanse’ thing he’s got going on, he would be able to satisfy all three of those demands. That is not to be. Instead, he closes his eyes and tries not to fall asleep on his feet. He’s alone in the elevator and he jolts when it comes to a halt. He’d been expecting to go straight down to the lobby then home. The doors open and he comes face to face with Castiel Novak. Castiel gives him a polite nod, stepping inside. Dean smiles back, not moving from his slumped position. The doors slide shut and they continue their descent. Dean lets his eyes fall shut, trying in vain to ignore Castiel’s proximity.

The feeling of lips on his neck has Dean’s eyes jerking open and his body upright. Castiel is crowding against him, hands grabbing Dean’s as his lips kiss and suck at Dean’s jaw, moving up to his mouth. Dean moans despite himself. So much for being ‘professional like Castiel’. Dean presses into Castiel’s body when his lips touch Dean’s. Their hands are locked between their bodies as Castiel pushes them against the elevator wall, rendering Dean immobile. Castiel’s lips are just as soft as he remembers. Dean strains against Castiel, trying to free his hands, to move. He desperately wants to run his hands through that carefully styled hair, down that muscled chest. But Castiel is insistent, his fingers tightening around Dean’s wrists.

The elevator pings and just before the doors slide open, Castiel steps away, looking as cool and calm as he did when he stepped into the elevator. Dean however, is breathing hard and it pretty sure he’s blushing from the tips of his ears all the way down to his toes. “This is your floor, Mr Smith?” Castiel asks, nonchalantly. Dean shoots him an incredulous look, before swinging his gaze back to where the doors are open, Castiel’s foot holding them so. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Dean storms out, pulling his laptop back around to conceal his crotch. Before the elevator doors slide shut he hears the sound of Castiel’s rumbling laughter. _Fucking smug prick,_ Dean thinks, hurrying towards the exit.

***

It’s not like he’s _avoiding_ him. Ok… that’s a lie. Dean totally is. Every time he sees Castiel, Dean turns around and walks away (calmly) in the other direction. Ok that’s another lie. He’s earnt a weird look or two as he he’d shuffle away, trying desperately not to draw attention, which of course has the opposite affect. And of course, it would only be Dean’s luck to have the very man he spends a good majority of his time avoiding, to come knocking on his door.

It comes as a shock. Never once has he seen Mr Novak in another person’s office. He either calls the person to _his_ office or they meet in a conference room. “Mr Novak, um…” Dean’s at a loss for words. He actually feels the urge to stand, instead of inadvertently using the desk he’s sitting behind as a shield.

“Have you been avoiding me, Mr Smith?” Castiel asks softly, moving across the room, towards Dean.

“Um… no?” Dean meant to _state_ that lie, instead it comes out like a question. Castiel raises an eyebrow and Dean ducks his head.

“Why Dean?” Castiel pauses right in front of the desk, he rests his hands against the dark wood. “Do you not like me?” Castiel asks it innocently, leaning over Dean; as if he has no idea what he’s doing to the other man.

“You know that that is a load of bullshit,” Dean looks up, meeting his boss’ eyes defiantly. The grin that stretches Castiel’s lips has a shudder rolling down Dean’s spine.

“Meet me in my office before you leave today, Mr Smith.” It isn’t a request although Dean nods anyway, excitement already buzzing in his blood. He spends the rest of the day wondering what Castiel is going to do to him.

***

Dean barely has time to lock the door behind him before Castiel is plastering himself against Dean. Their lips meet in a frenzy of barely controlled lust. Dean has his hands on Castiel’s waist, fingertips pressing into the divots of his sharp hipbones. Castiel is making a complete mess of Dean’s carefully gelled hair, fingers clutching desperately at the strands. Dean’s sure that when he walks out of Mr Novak’s office he’s going to look like some kind of sexually-sated hedgehog.

Castiel steps back, chest heaving, his pupils blown in lust. Dean tries to move towards him but a hand on his chest stops him. “Strip. Now,” Castiel orders, crossing his arms. Dean hastens to comply, starting with his jacket. It’s flung over the back of a chair before Dean’s unbuttoning his dress shirt with shaky fingers. He can feel Castiel’s eyes on him and it only makes him want to move faster.

By the time he’s standing, stark naked, in front of Castiel he’s sure he’s going to faint, all the blood having migrated down to where he’s almost painfully hard. Having Castiel staring at him, the look of desire and lust in his eyes is totally not helping.

Castiel’s desk is uncharacteristically bare and Dean begins to understand where this is going. “Bend over the desk,” Castiel jerks his chin in the direction of the mahogany furniture. Dean walks over his knees slightly unsteady as he bends, laying his chest down on the cool wood. “Spread your cheeks for me. Let me see you.” Castiel’s voice is a whisper and Dean shivers in anticipation. Dean reaches behind himself, never once thinking to disobey Castiel’s soft commands.

He can hear the shuffle of fabric as Castiel kneels behind him. The almost hesitant brush of Castiel’s finger over Dean’s hole has him biting his lip. “So beautiful,” Castiel murmurs before leaning in and licking once over the furled muscle making Dean gasp, his back arching in ecstasy. Castiel takes his sweet time opening Dean up. Having pulled lube from God knows where, he teases Dean. Dragging his fingertip over Dean’s prostate before pulling out completely. He alternates between circling the lubed finger around Dean’s hole, barely inching in up to the first knuckle before pulling away. Dean’s knees are buckling and Castiel hasn’t even moved past one digit. He finds himself breathing harshly, praying for the sweet agony to end. For Castiel to just _fuck him already_!

“Please. Please. Please,” Dean chants, eyes scrunched shut. Sweat beads along his forehead and occasionally he feels a drop roll down his spine. He’s shaking. Falling apart. His cock is trapped between the hard wooden desk and his abdomen, getting not even an ounce of relief. Castiel lays a hand on Dean’s lower back, thumb gently kneading the muscle. He says nothing, just continues in his ministrations.

When Castiel finally begins adding more fingers, Dean sighs in relief. He pushes back against Castiel’s hand, trying to get him to move faster. Castiel moves away, pulling his fingers from Dean’s hole leaving it clenching desperately on nothing. Dean feels like crying. He’s so fucking hard and the more he tries to move Castiel along, the less he gets. It’s so frustrating!

“Castiel, please. I need… just… please,” Dean whimpers, not caring that he sounds so completely desperate.

“What do you need, Dean?” Castiel’s voice is husky and Dean has to clench his teeth so he doesn’t moan out loud. Castiel’s voice is like gravel, wood smoke and whiskey mixed into one. Fucking _hot._

“I need you to _fuck me_ ,” Dean groans, Castiel thrusting his fingers against Dean’s prostate. “Right fucking now!”

“Ok.” Castiel stands, hands going to his belt.

“Oh thank god,” Dean sags against the desk, listening as Castiel unbuttons his suit pants. Dean spreads his legs further, feeling Castiel move to stand behind him. He’s thrumming with energy; he can’t wait for the feel of Castiel inside him.

Castiel drapes himself over Dean’s back and Dean, if possible, gets harder. Castiel hasn’t taken off any of his clothes. The suit pants brush against the back of Dean’s thighs. Castiel eases himself in, pushing in until his hips are flush with Dean’s ass. Dean basks in finally having Castiel filling him. It doesn’t last long. For Castiel sets a brutal pace, fucking Dean hard enough his grunts and Dean’s moans fill the room. Castiel’s balls slap against Dean, the slick squelch of excess lube reaches Dean’s ears. And then Castiel starts talking.

“You know how fucking hot you look? Bent over my desk? Ass spread just for me?” he mutters this against the shell of Dean’s ear, not ceasing his vicious thrusts. It’s all Dean can do to moan. “You love this don’t you? Just bending over for me. You get off on it. Bet you could come just from the feel of me inside you. Can you do that Dean?” Dean pants, eyes squeezing shut. Castiel’s body on top of his, the feeling of Castiel's cock in his ass, his own cock against the smooth wood of the desk. Dean’s never come untouched before. He just… can’t.

“Cas…” Dean moans, biting off a scream as Castiel pounds against his prostate, over and over. “Cas… I can’t,” he whimpers.

“Yes you can,” Castiel says, certain. Dean shakes his head, tears of frustration threatening to fall. He just needs to come. But he can’t, not without at least a little more stimulation than what he’s getting. Castiel’s thrusts are beginning to grow more erratic as he nears his orgasm. Dean fears as soon as Castiel comes that that will be it. He begins rocking against the desk, trying in vain to build up some friction. “Look at you, trying to get yourself off on my desk,” Castiel chuckles darkly, hips stuttering. His body crushes against Dean’s as he comes. His dirty moan echoing right into Dean’s ears. But it isn’t enough, Dean's stuck on the edge and he doesn't have that last push that he desperately needs.

Castiel pulls out and Dean is still hard, the smooth mahogany not enough for him to get off. He doesn’t pull himself up from the desk. He just lies there, biting back tears. “Stand up,” Castiel demands and Dean complies, not meeting his eyes. His cock is flushed a deep red and there’s precome smeared across the desk.

Dean gapes, the air being punched from his lungs as Castiel drops to his knees, taking Dean into his mouth. Dean clutches the desk, almost doubling over at the feeling of Castiel’s lips and tongue working over the head of his cock. _Holy fuuuck._ Castiel looks up; his big blue eyes catching Dean’s as he suckles on Dean’s cock.

“Oh _fuck,_ ” Dean breathes, eyes fluttering shut, as he gets lost in the pleasure. Castiel takes his dick deeper into his mouth until he gags. He pulls back, focusing on dipping his tongue through the slit and sucking on the head. “Cas, _Cas_ , I’m gonna come,” Dean moans, eyes opening as he looks down. Castiel lets Dean’s cock slip from his mouth, jerking Dean to completion. Dean nearly falls over, watching as his come splatters Castiel’s face, streaking down his nose and onto his cheeks. _God help me,_ he prays.

***

“Why were you avoiding me, Dean?” Castiel asks, watching as Dean dresses. Dean pauses, eyes flicking to his boss.

“Because I don’t want things to be awkward. You’re my boss… and the thing in the elevator. That wasn’t cool man. The first thing I did when I got home was jerk off to thoughts of _you_ ,” Dean confesses, buttoning up his shirt.

“Duly noted. It will not happen again,” Castiel murmurs.

“Good,” Dean replies, shrugging on his suit jacket.

“But… what about this…?” Castiel asks. Dean quirks an eyebrow.

“What about this?”

“Was this something… you’d wish to continue?” Castiel asks and fuck if he doesn’t sound slightly hesitant.

“Would it kill ya to at least buy me dinner first?” Dean asks with a smirk. “See you tomorrow… boss.” He strides from the room, leaving a speechless Castiel in his wake.

**Author's Note:**

> Oooh! Aaaah! An update! And soon it's going to be a bit more fluff... and a dinner date so that will be fun.  
> Stay tuned for part 3!  
> Also! If anyone has any suggestions about what they'd like to see in later parts, just drop me a comment :)


End file.
